Unrestrained Inhumanity

“Glad you could make it,” Leon Webster said, extending his arm to shake the man’s hand as he pushed his car door shut. A black balaclava concealed the man’s entire head, revealing only his deep brown eyes and the dark brown skin surrounding them. He wore a leather jacket that was black as the night, a pistol-shaped bulge emerging from the side of his torso.

“Always a pleasure,” the man replied, shaking Leon’s hand firmly with years of partnership and friendship. “You should’ve called me sooner, I would’ve been glad to help you on this one.”

“I know,” Leon grimaced, “I didn’t expect the man to be so – so fucking deadly. Took me out before I could even fire a shot.” He ran his hand down his blonde-stubbled face, feeling the swollen lump on his jaw where Edward Vernon had hit him. “I swear he will pay for that.”

“Well let’s get his ass,” the man said enthusiastically, looking over the decrepit house.

The two men stood side-by-side in the street by the old, run-down two-story house where Edward had just been fighting the robed creature. The entire street was cracked and torn, each house along it as shoddy as the last. The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, beginning to give way to night.

“Alright, Thomas,” Leon said with a smile, his silver revolver gleaming like a mirror with sunlight. “Let’s do it.”

Thomas Harrison reached into his coat and pulled an automatic pistol equipped with a red dot sight, arming it with an extended magazine. The two men moved quickly across the street and through the door to face the hell that lay inside the house.

---

Edward watched with awe as Arthur Crowley’s body suddenly burned away in a fury of red flames, leaving nothing but ash and smoldering bones under his black cloak.

“Jesus Christ,” he uttered, staggering to his feet as his wounds burned at his body – a mending bullet hole in his leg, a broken knuckle, and a severed pinky. He remembered the gunshots he heard earlier, and frantically limped to the open door leading into the hallway.

The hallway was empty. Earlier, Jack had been patrolling here, but now he was nowhere to be seen.

---

“Bleeding hell,” Jack Macmillan coughed as he regained consciousness. He pushed himself to his hands and knees, shaking his head as his vision returned to him, and stared down at the glass-littered grass below him. He turned and looked up at the second-story window, the frame of which had been shattered by the burly Scot as he was thrown through. Cuts and bruises burned all over his body, as well as the healing gunshot wound on his arm from several nights before.

He spotted his pistol on the grass near him, grabbing it as he pushed himself to his feet, struggling to regain his balance.

Now, he realized exactly where he was – in the side yard. Peering around the corner of the house, he spotted two men – the blonde man and a new one – approaching the front door of the house. As the two men entered the home, Jack followed closely behind, careful not to alert them of his presence.

---

Leon and Thomas turned the corner at the head of the stairs and walked down the narrow hallway – Leon smirked to himself as he observed the shattered window at the end. “There,” Leon whispered, pointing to an open door adjacent to it. The two men lined up against the wall beside it, and Leon cautiously peaked through the doorway. Inside, there was a bleeding corpse and a scorched black cloak piled on the floor – nothing else.

Stay here, Leon gestured, and moved carefully into the room, pointing his revolver forward and regarding every corner. Leon moved into the center of the room, lowering his pistol in bemusement when he realized he stood alone. Had Edward escaped him?

Suddenly, the door swung shut, and Leon spun around to face Edward as he bolted the door to the frame – it became immediately obvious to Leon that Edward had hid behind the door, lying in wait for the bounty hunter.

Cunning bastard, Leon thought to himself. Muffled gunshots erupted in the hallway and Edward pounced forward, swinging his blood-stained sword. Leon jumped back, firing his pistol at his yellow-eyed assailant, who leaped out of the bullet’s path with unnatural reflexes.

“Put that pistol away and fight like a man,” Edward taunted, gesturing to the obsidian katana on the floor next to the smoldering glove where Arthur’s severed hand once was.

Leon smiled, belying his nervous shudder, but agreed. He holstered his pistol and grabbed the black blade from the floor, lifting it beside his head.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” Leon grinned, the burning lump on his face propelling him.

---

The door swung suddenly shut, then clicked as it was locked from the other side.

“Shit,” Thomas spat angrily as he threw his weight against the door.

“Oi, prick!” a thick Scottish voice called out angrily. Thomas turned quickly and pointed his automatic pistol forward, staring down the barrel of a trembling handgun. Blood lightly oozed from many small cuts on Jack’s face, his cheek bruised from the impact of the glass.

Jack let loose four shots, each one hitting Thomas in the torso and sending him to the floor. Jack approached the man, kicking his weapon away from his fallen body. Much to Jack’s surprise, the man leaped energetically to his feet and dove forward, tackling the Scot.

Kevlar, Jack thought to himself with dismay as the armored torso slammed against him, his pistol slipping through his fingers. He fell to the floor and wrestled against the might of the large attacker.

The two men rolled down the hallway, locked in combat as they neared the top of the stairs. Pinned under the attacker's weight, Jack released himself from Thomas’ grip and swung his meaty paw forward, blowing across his assailant’s concealed face and knocking him off balance. Jack thrust his foot upward and threw Thomas off his feet, sending him stumbling down the stairs as Jack rose unstably. The man’s body painfully smashed its way down the staircase before coming to a stop half-way, where Thomas pushed himself upright, dizzied. A thick red stain was forming on the black cotton mask over his nose as he stood up and stormed back up the stairs.

“Son of a bitch,” Thomas spat as he swung at Jack, who ducked swiftly and launched his fist upward, pummeling the man’s jaw and dazing him.

In a rage, Thomas began swinging his fists wildly, smashing repeatedly into Jack’s torso and breaking multiple ribs. Jack cried out and fell off balance, throwing a desperate punch to break the unrelenting assault. To Jack’s relief, his fist caught Thomas’ face, smashing head-on into his nose and shattering the cartilage as blood gushed from his nostrils.

Thomas cried in agony and went tumbling violently back down the stairs, his spine fracturing and his limbs twisting before he came to a halt at the bottom, lying lifeless as a pool of blood formed around him.

---

Edward and Leon clashed swords in the bedroom as Jack wrestled Thomas in the hallway.

The Englishman noticed early in the duel that Leon was a novice with swords – the cunning fighter used this to his advantage. Edward constantly feinted left and right, confusing the blue-eyed assassin and catching him lightly with the tip of his sword, making sure not to severely injure him – yet.

Leon winced as the blade opened his flesh again and again, each wound deeper than the last. Edward grinned with delight as he continued against the unskilled Leon, driving the man further and further into cowardice as he clumsily parried most of Edward’s blows.

“Fuck this,” Leon muttered angrily. In a move that took Edward aback, Leon tossed his sword forward like a spear. Edward leaped out of the way frantically, the blade nicking his cheek and opening a small wound.

Edward hissed, and Leon drew his revolver and pointed it forward – Edward froze with terror.

“Bloody coward,” Edward spat. Leon pulled the trigger, emitting a powerful blast as blood sprayed from Edward’s chest. Edward stumbled backward, wincing with pain but ultimately standing strong.

“Jesus Christ,” Leon uttered, realizing Edward had just stood against a .357 round. He fired a second shot, puncturing a hole in Edward’s shoulder.

Before Leon could fire a third time, Edward dove forward and drove his blade through Leon’s throat, tearing through his muscles and vocal cords. Leon froze, unable to comprehend what had just happened, and the pistol fell from his hands as he dropped to his knees, choking and gagging on his own blood.

The door came crashing open and Jack appeared in the doorway, panting and sweating as Leon’s corpse tumbled limply over, his hands clinging in vain at the blade embodied in his trachea. Blood began to fall from Edward’s lips as he fell to his knees.

“ED!” Jack cried in distress, stumbling to Edward’s falling body. He caught his fallen partner just as he crashed to the floor. “ED, JESUS CHRIST!”

“Behind you,” Edward coughed. Jack’s eyes widened, then he jumped to his feet just as the black katana drove out his stomach.

Jack cried in agony, spinning around with the blade in his body and facing his assailant – Arthur Crowley.

“I’ll be damned,” Jack uttered, his voice trembling. Arthur was wearing a new black cloak and looked just the way he did when Edward first saw him, grinning and revealing his row of jagged teeth with an immaculate face. Jack collapsed sharply.

Arthur’s bestial, imposing demon-like voice spoke; “Thank you, Leon, for conveniently throwing my blade by the door.”

Edward struggled to pull himself upright, pointing Leon’s silver revolver forward and panting madly as blood ran down his chest.

Arthur’s evil grin widened as he yanked the sword from Jack's torso. “Haven’t you realized you cannot truly destroy unrestrained inhumanity?”

In a black blur, Arthur rushed forward, swinging his obsidian blade at Edward’s neck. At that moment, Edward fired the remaining three rounds, bursting large holes in Arthur’s head.

As Arthur swung his sword, a spray of blood emitted and stained the wall behind Edward. Edward stared forward blankly, only beginning to comprehend what had just occurred as his severed head slid off his neck and rolled several feet away, his dismembered body slumping backwards.

Arthur struggled to retain his balance as blood poured from the wounds on his head, his mind dizzying. Edward obviously had learned that his head was his only weak point, and he struggled to stay alive – now that his purpose for resurrection was fulfilled, death would be final. If he could only get back to his house, he could begin to mending process and–

Before he could finish his thoughts, a large hand grabbed Arthur by his short blonde hair, slamming his face into the wooden floor with a crack. Jack pummeled the demon’s head repeatedly into the ground, twisting it into a deformed mess before drawing his hunting knife from the sheath on his thigh.

The wound in his stomach burning madly, Jack sawed at Arthur’s throat with the blade, slowly and painfully ripping through muscles and veins as blood sprayed profusely. After a long, sloppy process of decapitation, Jack finally ripped Arthur’s head free from his neck, tearing away the remaining tissue. Arthur’s scream subsided as his inhuman life left him for the last time.

Jack got to his feet, covered in sweat and the blood of three different men – Arthur’s, Thomas’, and his own. He cast the severed head aside just before it – and the rest of Arthur’s body – was engulfed in red flames, being quickly consumed and eaten away.

“Bloody hell, Ed," Jack groaned as he shook his head in grief. A man as powerful and enigmatic as Edward Vernon was reduced to nothing more than a mass of dead flesh. "Bloody hell."

He staggered out of the house of horrors, leaving the macabre mess behind. The sun had fallen below the horizon, the street engulfed in total darkness broken only by the light of the half-moon hanging above. Jack limped aimlessly down the street, walking past two blocks before finally collapsing on the sidewalk, blood and tears falling from his broken body.